
Class — wL_ci.uizc. 



COKRJGHT DEPOSIT. 



SHINING FIELDS AND 
DARK TOWERS 



SHINING FIELDS 

AND 

DARK TOWERS 

BY 

JOHN BUNKER 



NEW YORK: JOHN LANE COMPANY 
LONDON: JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD 

MCMXIX 






'^V 



Copyright, 1919 
By John Lane Company 



Press of 

J. J. Little & Ives Company 

New York, U. S. A. 



UU 2u 1919 



©CLA536222 



I 



TO 
MY FATHER 

Here are blind words 
And a broken sounds 

A drift of smoke 
And barren ground. 

But you will give them sight 
And music's power; 

For you the smoke will flame 
And this mould flower. 



For permission to reprint certain of the 
following pieces I wish to acknowledge the 
courtesy of "America" the "Bookman," " The 
Catholic World," "Contemporary Verse," "The 
Rosary Magazine," "Scribners," "Studies," 
and the New York "Sun." 



Contents 



PAGE 



Earth-Music . ii 

The Flute-Player 13 

The Whistling Boy 17 

Twilight 20 

Nocturne 22 

Angels 23 

To Harsh Judgment Thinking Itself 

Wisdom 26 

Sonnet to a Boy 29 

Adventure 31 

On Bidding Farewell to a Poet Gone 

TO THE Wars 32 

On a Late Battle in Europe ... 34 

The Splendid Stranger 35 

Revelation . 37 

New York Sketches: 

I Palm Sunday in Central Park 42 

II The Cabaret 48 

III The Boarding-house Keeper . 53 

IV The Servant 55 

V The Restaurant 57 

To an Old Briar 60 

Tin Symphony 63 

Ballade of Faces Fair 66 

Boons 68 

To a Butterfly 71 

7 



Contents 



PAGE 



The Fortunate Isles 73 

Ballad of Lost Childhood .... 75 

To A Little Girl Who Died ... 78 

Capitulation , . 80 

Madrigal 83 

Love's Intendment 85 

The Stratagem 87 

Complainte d' Amour 90 

The Garden 96 

The Look 98 

Dust i' the Mouth 99 

Communion loi 

Lost-Love Tryst 103 

Elegy 105 

The Great Refusal 107 

God and the Universe no 

The Plight . . in 

Saints' Gold 113 

Worldly Place 115 

Enemies Three 117 

Detachment 119 

Storm 121 

Last Voyage 123 

At Moment of Victory 124 

Judgments 126 

sursum corda i3i 

Quest and Haven: 

I Quest . 135 

II Haven . 148 



8 



SHINING FIELDS AND 
DARK TOWERS 



SHINING FIELDS AND 
DARK TOWERS 

Earth-Music 

Oh, when into the fields I walk 
While yet the day is shining clear, 

Familiar sights of joy I see 
And even happier music hear. 

Oh, then between the lovely noise 
Of the green and pleasant hill 

And the valleys spreading wide 
In a chorus loud and shrill, 

And the buds' tumultuous shout 
And the sunlight's thrilling tones 
II 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

And the clamor of the grass 
And the outcry of the stones — 

Between all these I scarce can hear 
The utterance of my rhythmic blood, 

And the beat of Time itself 
Is lost in Nature's lyric flood. 

But when at night walking abroad 

On no familiar sight I come, 
Then I can hear Time's powerful beat 

And my blood cry, no longer dumb. 



12 



The Flute-Player 

Here on the top o' the windy hill 
I'll sit and pipe at my sweet will- 
Starry hymns or human strains, 
Natural joys or mystic pains, 
Rollicking tunes or simple airs, 
Just as my own spirit stirs. 

Warm odors, leaping colors, nashes of sound 
Encompass my senses around: 
Wide-wavering fumes from heavy-headed 

flowers, 
Strong cadence of flood waters, mighty 

powers 
Of the untrammeled air, the bright 
13 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Delirious magnificence of light. 

Unfurled 

Lie the glory and the loveliness of the world, 

The grandeur and the mystery and the might : 

The palpitant, soft-breathing earth 

Lazily outstretched in careless beauty, 

Gorgeous shows o' the sky 

Shot with multitudinous splendors, 

Tremendous music 

Surging through all creation 

As if it would crack the mould of things! 

And I with a silly pipe, a useless reed, 
Sit silent now at my extremest need. 

Here on the top o' the windy hill 
I sit alone and still. 

Down the shrunk sky the day is ebbing fast. 
And now comes creeping 
14 



The Flute-Player 

With stealthy, imperceptible approach the filmy 

twil'ight ; 
Onward it sweeps 
Billowing mistily up from the valley 
And closes over me — 
Cool and soft and vague. 

I feel about me secret presences, 

Frail witcheries, subtle influences; 

Shy wistful hues peeping from shadowy 

places, 
Little grey winds skipping among the grasses. 
Slender, invisible fingers stray over me 
Delicately, tremulously, 
And I in sensitive response 
Half-consciously breathe into my pipe. 
Then at last rises my song, 
Swelling forth under the faint stars. 
Gracefully my song advances 
15 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Like a maiden dancer, 

Gracefully it advances under the stars, 

Running with silver feet lightly over the sod. 

Swiftly, swiftly it dances onward, 

Waking the woods as it goes with musical 

laughter, 
Down the slope hill toward the hid horizon, 
Till suddenly, far off, in the dusk. 
It vanishes, 
Leaving me Night and this hush upon the air. 

Am I the flute or the flute-player."* 



i6 



The Whistling Boy 

{Spring Song) 

I could hear him coming toward me, for the 

sound was very clear, 
And when I turned a sudden bend I saw that 

he was near — 
A whistling boy, a country boy, upon a country 

road, 
With rounded cheeks and pursed lips from which 

the music flowed, 
A country boy with gladness and a tirra-lirra 

lay, 
And oh, but it was pleasant to hear, and oh, 

but it was gay! 

17 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

The morning mists were rising soft, and 

vaguely could be seen 
Upon the damp and smoking fields the slender 

shoots of green 
And in the corner by the fence the sheep that 

huddled lay 
Together in a fleecy group to wait the coming 

day; 
But the boy did not look at them as he went 

slowly by 
With his tirra-lirra music and a grave and sober 

eye. 

And then the sun shone brightly forth and 

startled into song 
Full four-and-twenty little birds that had been 

silent long, 
And the mists blew from the meadows, and all 
the silly lambs 

i8 



The Whistling Boy 

Rose stifF-legged and bleating beside their feed- 
ing dams. 

But the boy passed slowly by me and he said 
never a word ; 

His hair was white like the fleece of a lamb, 
and his song like a bird. 

I turned and watched him as he went along the 

road alone; 
A rabbit scurried over his path; he stooped and 

threw a stone; 
But for all the sounds that he might hear oi 

sights that he might see, 
Oh, never a moment did he pause in his blithe 

minstrelsy. 
But high and higher rose his tune till all the 

air did ring, 
For his body it was the body of Youth and his 

soul the soul of Spring. 
19 



Twilight 

Softly as tremulous dreams 
The dusk comes floating by, 

Like visible music of streams 
And mist and air and sky. 

The shadows waver and go 
Rippling over the grass, 

Like musical waters that flow. 
Like musical winds that pass. 

And yet there is no sound 
Within the hollow air, 

Only a peace profound 

And silence exceeding fair. 
20 



Twilight 

Like a silver strain 

Silence and dusk float by, 
Soothing as sleep after pain, 

Wistful as dreams that die. 



21 



Nocturne 

Beside a little stream of silvery white 

One calm midsummer eve I paused to gaze, 
Watching the spirits of heaven softly raise 

Their trembling beacons of o'er-brimming light; 

Swiftly my soul did mount to charmed height 
And earth-oblivious in that starry haze 
Thrilled to its inmost with a sharp amaze 

At the supernal majesty of Night. 

In power serene lay bare the glittering sky, 
And as I viewed that wide-encircling zone 

Of ancient awe, unfathomed mystery, 

And visible splendors of a realm unknown, 

Lo, on the marge of dim Eternity 

One tranced moment mute I stood — alone. 
22 



Angels 

I walked up to the gate 
And it swung open wide; 

I heard a joyful sound 
And softly stepped inside. 

It was a field of green ; 

Many children were there 
Running up and down 

With laughter and blown hair. 

It was a sky of peace; 

Tall angels stood around 
Watching the children at play 

Upon that pleasant ground. 
23 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

I seemed to know the field, 

I seemed to know the sky, 
But the little children I did not know 

Nor the angels who stood by. 

Little children at play, 

With eyes shining bright, 
Their laughter merry to hear, 

Their garments snowy white — 

At whiles I saw them pause 

One by one and go 
Each to his proper angel. 

And they each other know. 

One by one they went 

Each to his angel's side; 
The angels caught them up 

And spread their pinions wide; 
24 



Angels 

They spread their pinions wide 
And flew into the air; 

I saw it with great wonder, 
It was a sight so fair. 

Little children of God, 
I saw them borne away 

To fields not always green, 
To skies sometimes grey. 

I passed once more the gate 
And it swung firmly to; 

I walked until L came 
Unto the place I knew, 

And there I saw the angels 
Still guarding each his own, 

And in a world of loneliness 
No person walked alone. 
25 



To Harsh Judgment Thinking 
Itself Wisdom 

So that was he whom you despise 
Just passed before our casual eyes, 
The broken wretch your scorn doth seek 
As one scorn-worthy, being weak. 
And was he weak, or was he strong 
And gave he battle, hard and long. 
Oh, looking so with alien stare 
How may we judge and how declare 
What massed files from nether Hell 
He withstood before he fell? 
What may we guess, what may we say 
Of that sharp and deadly fray 
When his soul in grievous fight 
26 



Judgment Thinking Itself Wisdom 

Closed with Evil in the night 
Face to face and hand to hand 
AH in a strange and lonely land? 
Oh, that fierce assault, the stark 
And savage struggle in the dark. 
When the lights of heaven grew cold 
And the stormy darkness rolled 
Over land and over sea 
In a cloak of mystery. 
Assault, repulse, assault again, 
Oh, the never-easing strain, 
Leaden moments of scant breath. 
And the reeling ground beneath. 
Till out-wearied with grim play 
At last he faltered and gave way. 
And while th' obscene and impious rout 
Raised a wild, triumphant shout. 
There amid the loathly din 
He fell before the hosts of sin. 
27 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Oh, looking now with alien eyes 
What may we say and what surmise? 
Of that grim battle, blow for blow, 
What do we know, what do we know? 



28 



Sonnet to a Boy 

Thou frank brave eye which on the world doth 
stare 
With high observance and bold unconcern, 
Lord of the hour, king without a care, 

Monarch in trust for whom the great stars 
burn; 
When traitorous Time, proud rebel to command, 
Shall shake thy throne with treason, disavow 
His past allegiance and with hasty hand 
Pluck the bright circlet from thy 'customed 
brow ; 
When all thy golden trappings of romance 
Shall vanish away as if they had not been 
And thou, a bond-slave to strict circumstance, 
29 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Shalt noteless walk 'mid crowds of servile 
men, — 
Oh, then, remember this, — though in disguise, 
A king is e'er a king in Heaven's eyes. 



30 



Adventure 

A shadowy sense of some stark danger near, 
A strange far region where no path is shown, 

And round my heart the play and ripple of fear: 
Now to strike boldly forth to the unknown! 



31 



On Bidding Farewell to 

a Poet Gone to 

the Wars 

You didn't pose, self-conscious of your lot, 
Nor speak of what might be or might have 
been ; 

You always thought heroics simply rot. 

And so you merely wore your old-time grin. 

Whether you had a vision In your eyes 

Or bore a splendid dream within your heart, 

I couldn't tell; such things come with surprise 
And cannot be forecast by any art. 

Of those high secrets I can say no word 

Nor why on this grim business you were 
bent ; 

32 



Farewell to a Poet Gone to the Wars 

What dreams, what visions in your bosom 
stirred 
Will doubtless be made clear by the event. 

I know but this, that 'mid the manifold din 
Of breaking camp we said goodby, we two, 

And you looked at me with your old-time 
grin,— 
And this is all I can report of you. 



33 



On a Late Battle in Europe 

"Oh human heart, be still; 

See not, oh human eyes; 
Sorrow will have her fill 

And Death his sacrifice." 

Not so! our eyes shall clear 

With euphrasy of Sorrow; 
Our hearts not Death shall fear 

Who leads to God's great morrow. 



54 



The Splendid Stranger 

He came, the Splendid Stranger, with surprise 
And walked among us for a certain while, 

And there was magic in his glowing eyes 
And there was healing in his slow, shrewd 
smile. 

Oh, there were some who did not view aright 
Such things as mirth and laughter till he 
came. 

But he was patient with their meagre sight 
And flasht on darkness his revealing flame. 

But laughter has its brief and passing season 
And there's an end, it seems, of mirth and 
play, 

35 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

And we are wise with sharp and sudden reason, 
And he is over the hills and far away. 

Yet though another quest he follows after 
We shall not mourn in this dim light and 
wan, 
For through the dark there blows immortal 
laughter 
And mirthful music from the fields of dawn. 



36 



Revelation 

"For an enduring heart have the destinies 
appointed to the children of men." — Iliad. 

I walked into the streets 

Comfort to find, 
But I could not find comfort 

Nor faces kind. 

In hurrying throngs 

The people streamed by; 
Their iron clangor 

Went up to the sky, 

And I most weary 

Walked alone 
'Mid hearts of lead 

And faces of stone. 

37 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Then as I paused 

With senses sick 
I heard the sound 

Of a tapping stick 

And turning saw 

In those thronged ways 
A blind youth walking 

With careful pace; 

A blind youth walking 

With careful pace 
And a strange calmness 

Upon his face. 

He stopped at the curb 

To wait a guide; 
I led him across 

Through the traffic's tide. . . i 
38 



Revelation 

Then the earth heaved, 
Light fell in showers; 

The air grew sweet 
With springing flowers, 

And all the people 

There in sight 
Suddenly moved 

In dazzling light. 

Yea, then I heard 
With ravished ear 

The hosts of glory 
Chanting clear 

A burning hymn 
Of love and praise 

That set the heavens 
In a blaze: 

39 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

"Genius of man, 

This be your token, 
Fronting the years 

Unconquered, unbroken, 

"In granite patience 

And noble trust, 
Invincible spirit, 

Masterful dust!" — 

A thunderous hymn 

Like fire that rolled 
And made the heavens 

A blaze of gold 

And shook the air 

And solid ground 
With singing light, 

With flaming sound, 
40 



Revelation 

Till sky and air 
And earthly mire 

Dissolved were 
In golden fire; 

So that with what 
I heard and saw 

I scarce could get 
My breath for awe, 

But dumb and staring 

There did stand 
Holding a blind youth 

By the hand. 



41 



New York Sketches 

I — Palm Sunday in Central Park 

To-day was a holiday with me 

And I went forth to the Park 

To see what I could see, — 

And it was extremely delightful! 

There was of course the balmy air of a Spring 

day 
And the slender shoots of green just appearing 
And the birds hopping about 
And squirrels running hither and yon . • • 
And people. 

It was the last really I wanted to see, 
And so I sat down on a bench and watched 

them. 

42 



New York Sketches 

And they came and they came and they came 
And passed by, — 

And they all seemed in remarkably good humor; 
Young girls in groups of two or three or four 
Chatting merrily, 
Strolling couples. 
Husband and wife, 
Young lovers, . . . 
And babies! 

My gracious, there was just a stream of them! 
With their round staring eyes 
And their snubby little noses 
And their chubby fists which they sucked most 
industriously. 

There was a man on the bench with me. 
Poorly dressed, 

With a rather dull and unintelligent face. 
And yet 

43 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

He was reading a volume of Keats. . . . 
Perhaps he was a great genius; 
Who knows? 
Socrates was no beauty. 

Nearby sat a middle-aged Jewish woman, 
Fat and straggly-haired and slovenly and 

gross; 
And around her several children were playing. 
And whenever she looked at them, 
Which was often, 
Especially at one, 

A boy of seven or eight with coal-black eyes 
And rosy cheeks, 

The look in her eye became very tender. 
There was a smear of dirt on her cheek 
Made by some grimy and innocent little paw, 
But she did not seem to mind it 
And no doubt considered it a badge of honor 
44 



New York Sketches 

And a mark of sublime and inejffable distinction. 

Her smile was exceedingly patient and gentle; 

And presently as I sat looking at her 

I found myself 

Spiritually bowing down before her 

In most profound and admiring reverence. 

And then the horses, 

And the carriages, 

And the automobiles! 

What a gay and debonair appearance they made 

As they flashed by, 

With their caparisoned drivers 

Or brown-habited chauffers with jaunty caps. 

And in one of the automobiles sat a young 

woman 
With a straight narrow nose 
And a short upper lip 
And small hands with tapering fingers, 
45 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

So that I thought perhaps she was an aristocrat. 

Actually her father may have been a grocer 

Or a plumber 

In Pittsburgh or Newport, Kentucky. 

But whatever she was, 

My, but she was beautiful! — 

Enough to draw the heart right out of one's 

bosom. 
And she was laughing — 
I could see the white flash of her teeth in the 

sunlight ; 
And her eyes were extremely dark, 
And her hair. 
And she seemed to be in the most jolly humor 

imaginable ; 
For after all the rich may be happy ; 
At least, so says Marcus Aurelius — 
If they are virtuous. 
At any rate she swept by in her car; 
46 



New York Sketches 

And after that the sun seemed to shine more 

brightly 
And the birds twittered with a gayer note 
And even the squirrels seemed friskier than 

before. 

And still the people went by . . . 

Young girls in a row stepping briskly together, 

Old men walking slowly, 

Youthful couples with dreams in their eyes, 

And babies! 

Some in go-carts 

Or in their mothers' arms 

Or toddling on the sidewalk 

Holding to the one finger of parent or guardian 

Which was all they were able to compass, — 

And always sucking their fists. 

My, but they have prodigious appetites! 



47 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 
II — The Cabaret 

Let us go to the cabaret this evening. 

Really it's a funny place 

And worth visiting 

Once, 

Or perhaps twice; 

And it will give you something to wonder at 

And tell about "back home." 

Oh no, not wicked — 
Just dull. . . . 

Here we are! 

In these places, you know, 

They have some queer customs. 

For one thing you have to keep a firm hand 

On your food and drink 

For fear the waiters may whisk them from you, 

The idea of course being 

To have you order more food and drink, 
48 



New York Sketches 

And as a matter of fact 

You always do end up 

By drinking drinks you don't want 

And eating food for which you have no 

appetite. 
However, you do all this 
In order to look on 

At what is termed "the entertainment." 
It is about to start. 



"That woman performer there now, 
With spangles, 
Just about to sing, 
Or dance, 
Or what-not — 

Is she not a woman of loose character, 
What they call 'a painted lady'?" 
Why, no; I do not think so. 
49 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

She cannot afford to carouse 

Or be "fast," 

For she has to be in condition for her work, 

Which is quite exacting. 

This is her "job," 

And she knows if she is to hold it 

She has to be fit and capable. 

And really the chances are 

That she is supporting some widowed mother 

Or a broken-down father, 

Or sending a brother perhaps through college. 

And that young man over there, that singer; 
Note him — ^with his clear-cut face and honest 

eyes. 
He has a remarkable voice. 
He has been studying abroad, 
But the War forced him home; 
He just arrived last week. 
50 



New York Sketches 

His ambition is to be an operatic singer, 
But he did not complete his studies, 
And so he has turned to this, for awhile. 

There's our lady friend performing now. 
Watch her leap in the air 
And rattle her spangles 

And twist about into most peculiar and unnat- 
ural attitudes. 
And is she trying to sing? 
No one knows. 

She is making some sort of sound, 
But it is not music. 
And her face — '■ 
Did you ever see such a smile on a human 

countenance? 
It turns one half-sick, doesn't it? 
Really, 

In spite of the broken-down father 
51 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Or widowed mother, 

One could wish she had found some other occu- 
pation 
More simple and natural and womanly — 
A waitress, perhaps, or a semptress, 
Or a nurse, or a saleswoman, 
Or something else that has a smack of salvation 

to it; 
For after all 
It really doesn't matter how lowly one's station 

in life 
Or obscure the position — 
It's funny, isn't it, how one grows philo- 
sophical 
In a place like this. 
And exceedingly moral? — 
But really, you know, 
It isn't what one does that counts, 
But what one is. 

52 



New York Sketches 

And the young opera-singer; 

Look, he is about to begin, — 

With his frank gaze and manly bearing. 

He, too, one could wish had found some other 

way. 
There he is, don't you see? 
A little to one side — just below the stand; 
He is facing in this direction. 
His eyes have a thoughtful look; 
Perhaps he is thinking of his ambitions, 
Or his broken plans, 
Or his future. 

Or maybe he is only wondering 
Why we are here. 

HI — ^The Boarding-house Keeper 
My landlady is quite old — 
Over eighty, she tells me, 
But you would never guess it; 
53 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

She looks about sixty, 

Or, at the most, sixty-five. 

Of course she has had her troubles, — 

Even now; 

And at times I hear her rowing with the 

servant, 
A Jamaica negress; 
But as a rule she is quiet and sedate and 

uncomplaining. 

Of an evening, sometimes, I go in and talk with 

her 
And make all sorts of remarks 
In that lackadaisical manner of mine. . . . 
I inquire if that were she I heard dancing the 

other night 
And making such a racket. 
Or I say that, now the War is on, 
I suppose she will volunteer for a nurse, 
54 



New York Sketches 

Or something of the kind. . . . 
And the tired look goes out of her eyes, 
And her cheeks take on a rosy glow, 
And she laughs delightedly, — 
Really it is most agreeable to hear. . . . 
I think sometime I shall suddenly kiss her 
Just to see her lose thirty or forty years 
And become a young woman again. 

IV — The Servant 

She is very brown, 
Almost black, 

And has a child-like voice and manner 
And a melodious laugh — 
It's worth much just to hear her chuckle 
When she is amused — 
And big soft eyes. 

Her years, I should judge, are twenty, 
And she comes from Jamaica. 
55 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

I like to get her talking about her country. . . . 

The tropics, 

And the bright sun, 

And the waving palm-trees. 

Indeed it was the palms which started our 
conversation. 

I had come home from church with some palm- 
leaves 

And given her a piece or two. 

And my, but her eyes sparkled 

And glowed 

And danced! 

And she became quite voluble — 

Telling me what a great day Palm Sun- 
day is 

In Jamaica, 

And how they all turn out in procession, 

The women in their brightest apparel. 

And the men, too, in gala attire, 
56 



New York Sketches 

Following the vestmented priest through the 

town 
Singing 

And waving palm branches 
In honor of Christ's entry into Jerusalem. 
My, it is a wonderful fete day! 
I. 

And when she had ceased and I left her, 

Really it was some minutes 

Before I found myself back in my own country. 

V — ^The Restaurant 

I take my meals "out," 
In a little place around the corner. 
It is very neat and clean 
And owned by a Jew, 
,Who walks up and down 
And has a humorous twinkle in his eye. 
57 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

He laughs and jokes with the waitresses 
And they with him. 

It was that last I particularly noted; 

He does not treat them as "help" at all, 

But somewhat after the fashion of human 
beings, 

And they appear to enjoy working for him. . . . 

As I say, the place is run by a Jew. 

And frankly 

This prejudice against the Jews I don't under- 
stand in the least, 

Or, for the matter of that, any general and 
wholesale prejudice 

Which condemns off-hand and en masse 

Races, creeds, or nations; — 

Or, on the other hand, wholesale approval. 

On the contrary it seems to settle down with me 

Into a matter of individuals, 

And if they hit it off well with me, 
58 



New York Sketches 

Why, I like 'em 

Whether they be white, black, yellow, or brown ; 

If not, not. . . . 

And as for the Jews, 

Well, after all, Christ was a Jew, 

And Mary, His mother. 



59 



To An Old Briar 

Trusty friend and true, time-tested, 
Wreathed with peace and silence-crested, 
Still from my wonted grasp unwrested 

In stedfast constancy, 
What's the secret of thy charming? 
Whence the fancies round thee swarming? 
Why the fond and genial warming 

Of my heart to thee? 

When my soul with sadness cleaving 
At the pang of joyance leaving 
^Turns unto the airy weaving 

Of thine ebon bowl. 
What blithe Spirit, Presence jolly, 
60 



To An Old Briar 

Foeman sworn to melancholy; 
Lifts me from my drooping folly 
In the slough of dole? 

Sorrow's feature who but knoweth? 
For decay the flower bloweth, 
And each fated creature soweth , 

Wide his crop of rue. 
What then boots Love's wild endeavor? 
Heavy-thoughted sage knows never 
When impartial death shall sever 

Plighted hearts and true. 

Then when 'spite of courage vaunted 
Oft my fearful heart is daunted 
And I walk a pathway haunted 

By the brood of care, 
Then, 'tis then, when woe seems double, 
At thy touch each anxious trouble 
6i 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Melts away like frailest bubble 
Into viewless air. 

In thy hazes softly blending 
There is solace earth-transcending 
As down vistaed vapors wending 

In cathedral mood 
Pace I slow the galleries hoary 
With the mists of ancient glory, 
Living o'er old scenes of story 

In pensive solitude. 

Though castle wall and cottage humble 
Alike to kindred dust shall crumble 
And earth's massy structures tumble 

To destinate decay, 
Heedless of Time's wreckful powers. 
Still shall stand thy dream-built towers, 
Still thy fancy-laden bowers 
To the latest day. 
62 



Tin Symphony 

There was a time 

When I looked askance on all vers-libristSj 

Classing them as charlatans and shameless self- 
advertisers, 

Tin-symphonists, 

Fellows who rattled the pans in the kitchen of 
life 

And banged the pots about 

With an infernal clatter 

Merely to attract the attention of the master of 
the house 

Sitting sleek and well-fed 

And obviously satisfied with himself 

Reading the newspaper in the parlor, — 

A sort of below-stairs ruse 
63 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

To get him to put in his head at the kitchen door 

For but a moment 

When bang! they would come down on that 
solid sconce of his 

With a handy skillet 

And thus show him in the only way he could un- 
derstand 

That there were other things in life 

Besides eating and sleeping 

And the daily putting on and off of clothes 

And above all 

Prove to him with one well-directed stroke 

That, though he was not troubled that way, 

There are some feelings in the human breast 

That cannot be adequately set forth 

In the market-reports or the financial column. 

So at one time I thought 
In aloof condemnation, 

64 



Tin Symphony 

But now I say to myself: 

Well, though the instrument is not overly subtle 

Nor a thing of beauty 

And does not, perhaps, in its swift descent 

Describe an artistic parabola, 

Still, if the wielders thereof 

Can make an impression on that skull — 

Strength to their arm! 



65 



Ballade of Faces Fair 

Ye faces of sweet peril drifting by 
Like buoyant blossoms that in summer's day 
Float on cool woodland streams confusedly, 
With richest odors trailing their gone way 
Though none be near to mark their passage gay: 
Now by this fragrance warming yet the air 
God give you love who made you passing fair! 

The city streets are like a wretched sty; 
The city's touch is gloom by yea and nay ! 
Yet when, ye sprites fresh from your native sky, 
Ye but appear, in shadowy haunts and grey 
Your gracious presence maketh starry play: 
Now by this radiance flashing ever3rwhere 
God give you love who made you passing fair! 
66 



Ballade of Faces Fair 

Though Beauty's flower flourish but to die 
And none have force Time's spoiling hand to 

stay, 
Though Youth shall come in the false dust to lie 
A sometime glorious victim to decay, 
You would I bless, sweet nymphs, while yet I 

may: 
Now by this dawn-light on your glimmering 

hair 
God give you love who made you passing fair! 

U Envoi: 

Ladies, for you to the far heavens I cry. 
Maidens, for you I cannot choose but pray; 
A simple bedesman I one topic ply, 
A stedfast suitor I one boon survey. 
Content no other lore to know or say 
Save this alone, the burden of my prayer: 
God give you love who made you passing fair! 
67 



Boons 

Two men there were in the city 
And one was rich in store, 

But the other knew dire hunger 
And poverty full sore. 

And the two they pray to Heaven 
And the rich man prayeth so : 

"Tomorrow, Lord, is Christmas 
And all honor will I show. 

"My door it shall be open 
And my table shall be free 

To all the wretched city 
For Christ's nativity." 
68 



Boons 

But the other wondrous poor he was 

And he could only say, 
"Tomorrow, Lord, I praise Thee 

Upon Christ's natal day." 

And the rich man at his table 

The starving city fed. 
And the other to a sparrow 

Gave some paltry crumbs of bread; 

And one of his good bounty 
To a thousand freely gave, 

And one of his sweet pity 
Did a tiny songster save. 

Now let there be the sound of mirth 

And joyful carolling 
And let the merry bells ring out 

For Christ, our Infant King; 
69 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

For He did crow and clap His hands 

All on His mother's knee 
When that He saw those bonny gifts 

For His nativity. 



70 



To a Butterfly 

Let me watch thee, little swimmer 
Of the air, till dim and dimmer 
Grow mine eyes with thy quick motion 
In thy zephyr-billowy ocean ; 
Fluttering here, then yonder dashing, 
In the sunlight sudden flashing 
Into quivering beauty golden 
Soft as buds by night-winds folden; 
Darting, pausing, wheeling, turning 
In and out and swiftly spurning 
All that is not light and airy 
Like thyself, thou sprite of Fsery. 

Circling low or winging over 
Daisied lawns and meads of clover, 
71 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Where the latest berries quicken, 
Where the greenest grass doth thicken, 
Where the sweet flower bloweth. 
Ever on and on thou goeth, 
Seeming in thy tireless flight 
A winged spark of dancing light. 

Then let me watch thee, little swimmer 
Of the air, for dim and dimmer 
Grow mine eyes with gathering sorrow 
When I think thou hast no morrow; 
Thus I'm taught of thee and fate 
Fairest things have shortest date. 



72 



The Fortunate Isles 

. . . and then I thought the seas 
Of rime and old romance and fabled lore 
Before me rolled in swift and steady motion, 
And I, a youthful mariner once more, 
Put out my bark upon that mighty ocean. 

Yea, once again a hero of emprise 
On high adventure bound and glorious quest 
I spread my sail beneath young laughing skies 
And steered right onward for the magic West. 

On stately cities of the past I gazed 
And argosies deep-freighted leaped aboard, 
The shores of golden realms of fancy grazed 
And many a long-forgotten isle explored. 
73 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Round stedfast rock and rugged promontory, 
Down silvery reaches of inviolate streams, 
Past sombre heights and castles famed in story 
We drifted on, allured by prosperous gleams, 
The mystery of eld and v^^izard light of dreams. 



74 



Ballad of Lost Childhood 

( Told to a child) 

And a ship came out of the dark, my dear, 

Out of the mist and snow, 
With a glimmer of light upon its prow, 

And it glided soft and slow. 

It glided on so soft and slow 

That open to my view 
Were all the sweet and gentle sprites 

That seemed to make its crew. 

I gazed upon the tiny deck 

And saw the captain there; 
And lo, he was a little child, 

And he was wondrous fair. 
75 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

His hand lay calmly on the prow 

As he looked far away, 
And the ship it glided slowly on 

And the waves cast up their spray. 

And the ship it moved so soft and slow 

I thought it must be still; 
But the merry winds blew out to sea, 

And the ship obeyed their will. 

At last it seemed a little spot, 

So far it moved away, 
And suddenly it vanished quite, — 

Whither, none might say. 

And some there are who call the ship 

The Ship of Other Days 
That softly comes from out the dark 

And no man knows it ways. 
76 



Ballad of Lost Childhood 

And others are who say it is 

The ship of a little child; 
His gentle hand is on the prow 

And his eyes are sweet and mild. 

But this I know, it is a bark 

That sails an unknown sea, 
And it waiteth not for any man, 

And it tarried not for me. 

And thought other ships there are that come 

Out of the mist and snow 
With a glimmer of light upon the prow 

And softly pass and go, 

I wait in vain for my ship's return, 

My ship that went out to sea. 
For it sailed away into the dark 

And comes no more for me. 
77 



To a Little Girl Who Died 

I saw you only once or twice, 

And then I thought you very nice 

Like other little girls 

With curls, 

In lace and fluttering strings 

Of ribbons and silks and things; 

But after a time I scarce recalled a trace 

Of eyes or hair or any delicate grace; 

I knew no more your face. 

And then ... I heard . . . you had died, 
And drawing to a lonely place aside 
Unseen of all, — this is a secret true 
Between us two, — 

78 



To a Little Girl Who Died 

In that most lonely, lonely place aside 
I cried. 



Now scarce do I remember any trace 

Of your lost innocent face; 

Yet sometimes, sometimes, when I see 

A little girl such as you used to be, 

Her ways, her eyes, her hair, 

Or some slight thing that little children wear,- 

It shakes the heart of me. 



79 



Capitulation 

To that conjectured She, 

Whoe'er she be, 
That shall betimes my frolic fancy bind 
And with the queenly custom of her kind 

Prove tyranness to me; 

To that consummate lass. 

Own Beauty's glass. 
Wherein such union of all charms will show 
That which from which 'twill baffle Love to 
know, 

Submiss I bow, alas. 

Whether divinely tall. 
Or fsery small, 

80 



Capitulation 

Standing demure with posture most descreet, 
Or footing it lightly with abandon sweet, — 
My heart's to her in thrall. 

Whether her eyes be grey 

As close of day, 
Deep-smouldering dark, or sprightly glancing 

blue, 
Let be whate'er their love-compelling hue, 

I own their starry sway. 

Whether her locks be jet 

Freely unlet,. 
Or coyly snooded brown or golden fair. 
Within the entangling meshes of her hair 

My destiny is set. 

And though her beauty quell 
With magic spell 

8i 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

The simplest utterance of my praiseful tongue, 
Yet shall my heart with golden musics wrung 
Of her be voluble. 

And though her winsome eyes 

With stark surprise 
Shall rouse strange tumult in my shaken breast, 
Yet peace I'll find and spiritual rest 

In their tranquilities. 

So, be she dark or fair, 

I have no care, 
Since this full well of so dim mystery 
My prescient heart doth know, that being She 

She's everything most rare! 



82 



Madrigal 

Love is timid, Love is bold, 
Love is like a tale half-told, 
Love is merry, Love is sad. 
Love is sober, Love is mad, 
Love is young and old. 

Love outstares the brightest star 
When that the beloved is far. 
But w^hen the beloved is by 
Love vi^ill scarce lift up an eye, 
Love can only sigh. 
Love will show in gravest plight 
Like a holy eremite 
Sworn to cause of truth; 
Then like frolic youth 
83 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Love will caper, Love vi^ill grin, 
Find cause of quarrel in a pin, 
Feast full early, fast full soon. 
Swear great oaths to sun and moon; 
But an if the true-love come 
Love stands mute and dumb. 
Love will laugh in any weather 
With a heart as light as feather, 
Love will sing a song; 
Then 'twill weep for days together, — 
True to nothing long. 

Love, I will not be thy sport, 
Love, I will beware thee; 
Or, if thou wouldst snare me. 
See thou act in seemlier sort; 
Else I cannot bear thee; 
Hence! I do forswear thee! 



84 



Love's Intendment 

Were she the queen of my desires 
She'd vestured be in sweet attires 
Of clinging virtues, fairer far 
Than costliest robes of monarchs are; 
She'd diadem in regal guise 
Her brows with glistering charities 
And, wearing on her winsome face 
The mystic light of inward grace, 
She'd sceptre her above the press 
With sovereign wand of gentleness. 

Were I the monarch of my soul 
My staunchest levies I'd enroll 
And with a port of firm command 
Amongst mine innate powers stand 
85 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

To bid them all my soul bedight 
With noble actions, pure and bright, 
And garnish with supernal art 
The inmost chamber of my heart 
In stateliest splendor, so to be 
Fit place for her high empery. 



86 



The Stratagem 

Oh, I would roam this wide world o'er 

Or dare the raging sea 
If so I might from Nature's store 

Win ornament for thee. 

But how may I strange beauties place 

Where nothing is amiss 
Or dower with an alien grace 

What now too gracious is? 

Oh, I would bow this stubborn head 

Or bend a servile knee 
If so I might by lowlihead 

Do homage. Sweet, to thee. 
87 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

But is that reverence meet which shows 

In pale obsequious guise, 
Or is that homage true which knows 

It can no otherwise? 

Maiden, why with undue assault 

Dost thou my spirit oppress? 
Where other ladies err by fault 

Thou sinnest by excess. 

Now therefore make I bitter plaint 

And lay it to thy charge, 
Haply that thou assume a taint 

And my strait scope enlarge. 

But if this boon I crave of thee 

Thy unworthiness withhold, 
Or thou on my necessity 

Cast negligent glance and cold, 
88 



The Stratagem 

I'll deck me out in lovely gauds 

From thy superfluous store 
And with stol'n livery of thy lauds 

Eke out my portion poor, 

That so, though thou shouldst obdurate prove 

To my weak charms or none. 
Thou canst not choose but fall, my Love, 

A captive to thine own. 



89 



Complainte D'Amour 



I, as you know, am a writer by profession, 

In fact, a poet, 

And for some little time now 

I have been meditating a letter to you 

Complaining of a certain curious phenomenon 

Of which you are the prime cause and essential 

reason. 
It is this: 
Sometimes, 

Especially just after I have seen you, — 
The day, for instance, following the night on 

which I have seen you, — 
90 



Complainte D'Amour 

When I sit down quietly and alone 

And, proposing a poem, 

Wait like a taut violin string 

For inspiration to come and sweep this spirit of 
mine into music, 

Then 

Your image comes floating before my mind's eye, 

And I, falling into a daze, 

A sort of peculiar and wide-awake trance, 

Sit idle, doing nothing at all 

And caring to do nothing 

Except to think of you and to gaze at this image 
of you 

A silent worshipper. 

And frequently this condition continues for days 

So that I wander about in a delightful abstrac- 
tion 

Heedless and scarcely conscious 

Of the pulsating and feverish world around me. 
91 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

I bump into posts and people, 

I bark my shins against unseen objects; 

Taxi-drivers swear at me 

And curse me for a loon and a simpleton, 

But I merely smile and pass on, — 

Somehow I seem incapable of anger. 

And my friends grin 

And shake their heads knowingly. 

Really I suppose that I do in fact 

Appear to the world a dizzard, a fool, 

A ninnyhammer and one who has entirely lost 

his wits; 
And probably I am, 
But I do not care. 



Meanwhile not a line is written. 
Confound you anyway! 



92 



Complainte D'Amour 
II 

I do not know why I love you. 

You are not overly witty, 

Nor clever, 

Nor exceptionally beautiful. 

In truth I have known many ladies more beauti- 
ful than you. 

And cleverer, 

And much more accomplished and intellectual. 

And yet 

For some abstruse and incalculable reason 

You are mixed up in my most intimate con- 
cerns. 

My thoughts, my plans, my visions, — 

And you the most entrancing vision of all! 

I find myself often thinking of certain traits of 
yours, 

Little elusive mannerisms and characteristics, 
93 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Slight actions that hardly deserve a name 

And are barely noticeable except by the eye of 
love, 

So minute and transitory are they. 

Perhaps it is these would give me the answer: 

The way you wear your hair, 

The fold of your dress, your light and graceful 
bearing, 

Or, on occasion, the saucy flirt of your head. 

Your chin tip-tilted; 

Maybe it is the merry flash of your eye 

Welling over with laughter, 

Or that most pleasant and gracious manner you 
have in speaking to one 

Like some high and incomparable lady of ro- 
mance 

Quite simple and unassuming and at ease. 

Or perhaps it is only the little mouth you some- 
times make at me 

94 



Complainte D'Amour 

In humorous deprecation 

When I pay you a high-flown and extravagant 

compliment. . . . 
I do not know. . . . 
It is a great mystery. 



95 



The Garden 

Here are roses for your brow 

And sweet berries for your eating, 

Grasses where the soft winds blow, 
Tranquil bowers for love's greeting; 

Round about are hedges rude 

That no alien foot intrude. 



Peaches in the mellowing sun, 
Yellow pears that ripe to bursting, 

Globed grapes with wine that run, 
Pulped apples for your thirsting; 

Choose or leave whate'er you will 

They but wait your pleasure still. 
96 



The Garden 

Flowers for to crown your hair, 
Shaven sward for merry dances, 

Fountains twinkling in the air, 
Quiet pools to take your glances: 

These are yours with paths to roam, 

These are yours if you will come. 

But if you and Love should go 
Wandering by and never enter, 

All the air will turn to snow 
And the flowers pass to winter; 

Withered fruit will hang on the wall 

And this garth to ruin fall. 



97 



The Look 

Your grave and sorrowful eyes, 
Clouded with sudden pain, 

Forever and forever 
With me remain. 

To my so thoughtless words 
This was your still reply. 

Whose eloquence yet fills 
My earth and sky. 



98 



Dust I' the Moutli 

Oh, who would be Love's gleeman 

Must have a heart of fire 
And strike a wild and passionate note 

Upon a golden lyre, 
Must strike a true and tender note 

Unto his soul's desire. 

"Gi' me one kiss o' thy comely mouth 
Or a glance o' thy bonny bright e'e," 

So sang Love's minstrelsy, 
Swift and wild as the winds that blow, 
Passionate as the sea, 

Gentle as the winds that blow, 

Simple as the sea. 
99 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

I thought to be Love's gleeman 

All on a harp of gold, 
But oh, before I struck the strings 

My heart it withered old, 
For even as I touched the strings 

My Love lay deaf and cold. 

"And for bonny Annie Laurie 
I'd lay me doun and dee," — 

Is this Life's irony? 
Answer, ye blustrous winds! 
Reply, thou moving sea! 



Hushed and mute the winds; 
Motionless the sea. 



100 



Communion 

Nothing that I might say 
Or I might do, alack, 

Unto the light of day- 
Can serve to bring her back. 

Her body straight and fair 
Low in the earth doth lie; 

Her spirit light as air 
Dwells in the windy sky. 

And so I do not weep 

Nor this wide silence mar; 

Tears cannot go so deep 
Nor any words so far. 

lOI 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Now I all solace waive 
And make no further cry ; 

Mute grief may pierce the grave 
And silence touch the sky. 



I02 



Lost-Love Tryst 

{"The strong hours conquer us" 

Coleridge's Translation of Schiller's 
Wallenstein ) . 

To-night I hear the innocent winds go by 

With gentle tread in meek simplicity; 
To-night I see the patient stars on high 

With delicate grace shed down their 
glamourie ; 
To-night I feel the odorous warmth of flowers 

Clinging about me like some dim caress; 
To-night I sense the flight of hurrying hours, 

Whose healing wings remove old wretchedness. 
Oh winds, I charge ye, keep your tranquil ways; 

Ye brooding stars, I bid ye make no stir ; 
103 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Drift, flowers, your sweetest incense round this 
place — 
So shall ye be Love's best remembrancer. 
Only to Time I say, Move slow, move slow, 
Lest in your haste you mar my shrined woe. 



104 



Elegy 

Now thou art dead and gone, Ladie, 
Now thou art dead and gone, 

The sky it is not good to see 
Nor earth to tread upon. 

The sky it holds thy lily-white soul 
And the earth thy cold body, 

And till they twain shall come together 
So long I'll grieve for thee; 

So long I'll grieve for thee, Ladie, 
So long I'll grieve for thee. 

While there is earth to tread upon 
And bonny skies to see. 
105 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Now fare thee well, thou springtime flower, 
Breath and bloom o' the May; 

Henceforth through this world's wilderness 
I walk a lonely way. 



106 



The Great Refusal 

To casual seeing he was just the same 

That he had always been; he dressed the same 

And walked and talked as he had always done, 

And when he laughed the old familiar chuckle 

Came in just pat as it was used to do; 

So that it was no wonder bland outsiders 

Thought him the man that they had always 

known. 
But though he made no sign and walked securely 
The usual round of every-day affairs, 
He was no more the man that he had been 
Than I am Julius Cassar. For when sounded 
For his behoof that strange imperious call 
Which, name it fate or duty, each man hears 
107 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Lifting above the noises of the world 

Once with authentic summons in his soul, — 

Because it spoke to him in too stern fashion 

Bidding him go the difficult way of pain 

And stress and starry loneliness that leads 

To the fair summit of one austere glory, 

He turned aside, and therewith pulled about 

him 
His house of life forever. A difference slight 
It might have seemed, and common: he but 

chose 
One path instead of another, merely took 
What seemed the way of facile treading ; yet 
By the fine irony of the unforeseen 
The path he chose became for him indeed 
The difficult way of pain and loneliness 
That leads to God knows whither. So he passed 
With his strict doom upon him down the days, 
Dogged to the end by diligent regret. 
io8 



The Great Refusal 

And though he spoke no word and walked se- 
curely 
The usual round of every-day affairs, 
Within his eyes I caught the look of one 
Who bears a secret trouble at his heart; 
And now I never see him but I think 
Of the heroic path he might have trod 
And those dim peaks of his refused greatness. 



109 



God and the Universe 

Beyond the beating of Time's powerful wing 
And all the solemn changes wrought thereby, 
Hidden yet known, remote yet ever nigh. 

Vaster than space where the great planets swing, 

Higher than thought its daring point may fling, 
Deeper than Faith may trust or Hell deny, 
Unchanged, unchanging, through eternity 

Dwells wide Creation's everlasting King. 

Now in the likeness of a snow-white Dove, 

Now on the gibbet rackt with cruel pains, 
Now breathing Life as life and death above. 

In triune majesty He lives, He reigns; 
And this vast world His still unwearied love 
Surrounds, uplifts, controls, preserves, sus- 
tains. 

110 



The Plight 

Now is this rich-proud Age brought suddenly 
low, 
And fearful lest it never more should rise 
Like one who on a bed of fever lies 

Tosses in frenzy and intemperate woe; 

Ah me, it does not its right sickness know, 

But vext with spectral forms and demon eyes 
It raves and curses in delirious wise, 

Mistaking ill for good and friend for foe; 

For in that darkened chamber full a score 

Of vile imposters round the couch of pain 
Crowd to discuss the symptoms o'er and o'er 
III 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

And with loud words their diverse views 
maintain, 
Whileas for entrance at the bolted door 

The Great Physician knocks, and waits in 
vain. 



112 



Saints' Gold 

Whoso is faithful warden of desire 

And o'er his bosom wields control complete 
Hath deep within his soul a bower meet 

For shadowy ease and chaunt of woodland quire; 

Nay, 'tis a sacred region walled with fire, 
A sanctuary pure, a calm retreat 
Of healing thoughts and claustral silence 
sweet, 

Whence all the ills o' the seeming world retire. 

But if he should his wild desires unpen 
Upon this precious plot and it despoil, 
The snake Remorse about his heart shall coil 
113 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

And this fair garth become a viperous den ; 
For this is truth, if any truth 's to tell, 
In man's own breast he bears his Heaven or 
Hell. 



114 



Worldly Place 

When I regard Earth's prizes and her fee 
For willing service, note how small and great 
Barter their honor at full easy rate 

In crowded marts, and when, oh worst, I see 

That many a sovereign soul, unbowed and 
free- 
Though victim of the World's extremest 

hate — 
Knows for Circean cozenage too late 

The soft caress of her fell sorcery; 

Then greatly I fear her touch, her glance, her 

mood 

Of tender dalliance, as with amorous wile 

Masking her purposed ill beneath a smile 

115 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

She winds about the soul her bare arms lewd; 
For when with frowns she may not work her 

will, 
Fair-seeming ways she hath and gracious skill. 



ii6 



Enemies Three 

The Soul hath two grim foemen: one in might 
Marches afield with banners and proud tread, 
The other in all cunning trickeries read 

Of spies and ambush wages subtler fight. 

The one the World, the other Satan hight, 
Are these fell foes that on Life's field dispread 
Marshall their forces in great lustihead 

And seek to do the Soul most foul despite. 

But oft there is a third more dread than they 

As having neighbor nearness to our state, — 
The sometime treacherous Body that would 
betray. 
Or act the craven in the fortress gate: 
117 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Then, Soul, be wary and thy staunch powers 

know, 
Since traitorous friend is worse than open foe. 



ii8 



Detachment 

Oh for a spirit stedfast, unsubdued 
To worldly villeinage, a bosom clean 
Of earth's base uses, and a will serene 

In sovereign strength of its own hardihood, 

That so I might unto my proper good 
Be constant ever and with purpose keen 
Move in firm mastery through this troubled 
scene 

Monarch of self in full imperial mood. 

Then should my soul like some sea-shattering 
rock 
Rising aloof from the low trodden shore 
119 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Stand in bare grandeur 'gainst the whelming 

shock 
Of the world's powers and deaf to their proud 

roar, 
Or peaklike mount to some far virgin height 
Where not ev'n eagle wing should hazard flight. 



120 



Storm 

Here do I pause and watch Life's swollen main, 
This desolate waste of waters dark with woe, 
Heaving and tossing in tremendous throe 

'Neath every passion's buffet. Wind and rain 

Lash its vext waves to fury, and in vain 

Seems hope of havening calm, for swift or 

slow 
These mighty currents with ordained flow 

Move ever to the ultimate ports of Pain. 

When this I see I bow in vague despair 

As one who long with every wave hath striven 
And knows too well how far his barque's been 
driven 

121 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

From her true course, — till comes this thought 
most fair, 
That once a Voice with gentle sweet behest 
Said "Peace," and all the waters sank to rest. 



122 



Last Voyage 

Oh, let there not be moaning and sad wail, 
Oh, let there not be sighs and bitter tears 
When for the shadowy region of lost years 

I me prepare in Death's dark ship to sail; 

For I may not that great appointment fail 

Nor need I dread the angriest wave that rears, 
Since Death a master mariner is and steers 

The stoutest craft that ever weathered gale; 

But let there be brave instruments in play 

Breathing of high adventure on strange sea 
And to their music let me glide away 

And sweeping o'er that course of mystery 
In God's vast harbor dash 'mid bursting spray 
With tackle trim and streamers fluttering 
free! 

123 



At Moment of Victory 

"Who never art so near to sin and shame 
As when thou hast achieved some deed of name." 
— Newman, Dream of Gerontius. 

If e'er that moment come, as come it may. 
When thou, my Soul, after stubborn debate 
Of armed struggle with the hostile state 
Through their close spears shalt cleave victorious 

way; 
Yea, when thou break their strong and cruel 
array 
And drive before thee like a roaring spate 
Them in wild tumult, and at last elate 
With conqueror's mien the hard-won field 
survey: 

124 



At Moment of Victory- 
Even then at that high moment draw aside 

And wrap thee round with silence; yea, expel 
All sounds of glory and triumphant pride 

And ponder this dark secret I foretell, — 
That on that slippery point of time abide 

Danger and loss and the swift reach of Hell. 



125 



Judgments 

'Nay^, an thou It mouth . . ." 

— Hamlet. 



Looking abroad upon this populous earth 

Strange thoughts I have, harsh and embit- 
tered, 
That turn my shining dreams to sandy dearth 

And bend with care my once exalted head: 
As seeing want that slinks away to die 

And full-blown plenty making wild carouse, 
And sodden baseness deaf to honor's cry, 

And mad ambition shaking this world's house, 
And raging lust acting in beastly kind, 

And robed injustice dealing forth the law, 
126 



Judgments 

And pompous power to trampled merit blind, 
And human trust that leans upon a straw: 
These but to know is the charged cup to drain 
Of hate and scorn and all-embittering pain. 

II 

Nay, this is not one-tenth of life's sad story, 

No, nor one-thousandth nor one-millioneth 
part, 
And here doth man was made for timeless glory 

Feed myriad woes at his unquiet heart: 
So see I Youth lie broken in defeat 

With all its glorious purpose given to loss. 
And hapless Age, bereft of generous heat. 

Yet staggering on beneath Time's heavy cross. 
And high endeavor striving for its goal 

Through weary years and baffled at the last, 
Or if it win, unto the famished soul 

The fruit is ashes and the savor passed — 
127 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

That so this world that seems so fair to view 
Takes on corruption's grey and leprous hue. 

Ill 

Pride and ambition like two fiery devils 
Rage in my blood and give me no release, 

Bidding me spurn the swarming popular levels 
Where other men win merriment and ease; 

And I thereby have won a most sweet guerdon, 
Oh, sweet, most sweet, as wormwood or as 

gall, 
And I have borne, and bear, a pleasant burden, 

Crushing my spirit ere this body fall; 
So when I think I might have made ambition 

Tower a height all loftiest height above 
And bent my pride, proud in its own submission. 

Unto the deathless purposes of love, 
I call myself, *thus alien to right rule, 
A fool, a fool, a world-without-end fool. 
128 



Judgments 

IV 

If knowing my own scope and seeing clear 

The stedfast object of my human days, 
I weakly swerve from many a purpose dear 
And walk aside in strange, o'er-darkened 
ways; 
If pressed by chance or fate or what-you-will 

Or by the gusty humors of the blood 
I do the thing my spirit marks for ill 

And still forego the gracious deed I would: 
How may I then impose my will abroad 

Who in my native region so lack power, 
Or scorn the wretch who falters 'neath his load 
When I my task scarce bear from hour to 
hour? 
Thus do my judgments curve in middle flight 
And at that place whence they were launched 
alight. 

129 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 



Shall I be proud if these my days are fair 
With wealth's full honors, blazed to envy's 
eye? 
Shall I bemoan my outcast state and bare 
That walks abroad in shivering penury? 
Shall I rejoice because I am the theme 

Of Glory's trump, which wide my fame doth 
blow? 
Or shall I mourn for that I nothing seem 
Save food for slanderous tongues? Not so! 
not so! 
Since neither want nor riches, palace nor den, 
Nor praise nor scorn, nor love nor rancorous 
hate. 
Nor any judgment on the lips of men 

Can add to my true quality, nor abate: 
What thing I am, I am — no more, no less, 
Than that which God shall find to ban or bless. 
130 



Sursum Corda 

When in the midst of this embattled field 
Compassed with terrors and the angry foe 
For very stress I may no farther go 

But only stand and hold my battered shield, 

And when, alas, in this weak state revealed 
My recreant powers in craven sort do show, 
Refusing that right aid to me they owe, 

And sick at heart I am on point to yield: 

Oh, then if I but think on deeds long past 

Of Saints and Heroes who achieved and bore, 
Who on the perilous edge of fate stood fast 
Nor blenched nor quailed the sternest doom 
before, 

131 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Then stirs my heart as with a trumpet-blast: 
Once more unto the breach, my Soul, once 
more! 



132 



QUEST AND HAVEN 

(In Memory of Francis Thompson) 



I 

Quest 

(On first hearing of Francis Thompson) 

Mayhap I seek thee. All the forespent years 
Haply I traversed, waiting thy lone voice, 
A voice as of far mysteries and tears 
And tremulous beauty, making to rejoice 
The thralled spirit. Yea, perchance 'twas thou 
I ever followed, groping out the road — 
With doubtful eyes and heavy heart enow — 
That leadest upward to Fame's right abode 
Of still, inviolate glory. I know not: 
This only do I know — with reverent breath 
Song's crowned monarchs ever have I sought; 
135 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

This only do I see — Beauty hath wrought 
Strange transformation in this house of death. 
Nor yet may I believe what my heart saith 
Thro' weary ways who wander, far and nigh 
Seeking one latest singer making bloom 
Life's barren spaces and uplifting high 
From out this welter of encumbering gloom 
A dauntless forehead and a seeing eye. 

Ah me, an eye for Beauty, whose strong spirit 
Yet walks among us in our hopeless night, 
Flooding this prison-house that we inherit 
With billowy radiance of all pure delight; 
Who doth with lovely largess much endower 
Stream, field, and woodland, and o'er-bending 

skies ; 
Whose voice is as the sound of vernal shower — 
Beauty that walks the earth and never dies! 
Nor these alone — the hues of morn and even, 
136 



Quest 

The luminous raiment of the dewy air, 
Not sole the visible shows of earth and heaven 
The living tokens of her bounty wear — 
Not these alone, but Love's divinest treasure, 
All viewless glories of this mortal plan, 
All joy that sways the heart with kindly pleasure. 
All peace that calms the fevered soul of man. 
Draw vital breath from that serenest Power, 
Whose splendor is the star, whose fragrance is 
the flower. 

Beauty and Song — how in this waste of days 

Have we unlearnt their praise; 

Turned dullard eyes, blinded to all delight, 

From those pure spirits and bright. 

And now with cheerless steps tread dark and 

miry ways! 
All reverent use has failed us: now no more 
Will we the stars adore ; 
137 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

To sealed ears 

Rings the large music of the circling spheres, 

Nor any breast responsive. The threne o' the 

sea 
Is but reminder that we once were free 
And chaunts our dissolution. Yea, amiss 
We take the innocent kiss 
Of the young winds of heaven; with stolid stare 
Front the blithe face of Nature; tho' she bare 
Her lucid charms in fluent disarray 
Unto the eager day, 

Nathless the maiden freshness of her smile 
May nothing us beguile. 
Whether Dawn lave 
Her rosy bosom in the eastern wave, 
Or Night with his glittering train 
Move in slow grandeur thro' his dusk demesne, 
For us, for us they are no longer fair; — 
Our hearts are otherwhere. 
138 



Quest 

Tho' Beauty linger, spokesman hath she none 
In this ill day save these, save these alone : 
Vague winds the trees among, 
Soft speech of rain, brisk waters, — the brute 

voice 
Of Nature, dumb interpreter, — ^blank noise. 
An inarticulate murmur, which not man 
Untaught of Song, own Beauty's proper tongue, 
May rightly spell or her true features scan. 
Untaught of Song — Oh, how may Song remain 
In this most bleak and desolate hold of pain. 
Or to her eyes allow 

Stern sight of wrongs her heart may not sustain ? 
This is the term of her allotted stay, 
For now, even now, 
She, the wild she, 

Slipping her fragrant coverture, away 
Quivers aloft to heavenly regions free 
In one swift burst of starry ecstasy! 
139 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

A fleeting loveliness, a shadowy blissful sound, 
Brave Song hath vanished, far aw^ay hath fled, 
While we with bosoms cold and senses dead 
Not mourn our loss. In sordid shackles bound. 
Lashed with the stinging scourge of physical 

need. 
We move in the treadmill of the world's cold 

greed, 
And no man his own master. Life, alas. 
Outspread for the spacious field of man's free 

act, 
Is now a meted circuit, a fixed pace, 
A prison-yard and bondage. 
Nay, 'tis a scheme mechanical, a base 
Contrivance of craft, and man a whirring fact 
Therein unspiritual. Wheel within wheel 
And cog to cog adjust, 

With many a smoothly-oiled groove between, 
Grinding man's spirit to unvalued dust 
140 



Quest 

Revolves the monstrous engine, this accurst 

machine, 
Till the heart sicken and the faint sense reel. 

We knovv^ not and we care not; we have passed 
Into the valley of all glooms, where rears 
Doubt his gaunt shadow, and behind us cast 
Belief and hope, laughter and cleansing tears. 
We have shook of£ the yoke of the worshipping 

years. 
"No more," (we said), 
"Will we bow down to the intolerant dead 
Who are beyond the scope of their lost seeing. 
Here on this plot of isolated being, 
Untouched of mystery and unnatural dread, 
We disavow all reverence and all fears, 
All vain ancestral pieties, all dreams. 
Faith is a fool's delusion, a madman's jest, 
A self-wrought snare of fevered fantasy, 
141 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

And we, proud we, 
Proclaim the passing of a stricken day 
Of dupes and cowards, fed with windy schemes 
Of a surmised hereafter. 
Away! away! 

Here where we nothing know and nothing can 
Beyond the limits of this mortal span. 
Come what, come may. 
Here we unchain our spirits of old sway; 
Scatter the dust-heap of all ancient lies 
And musty fables; 

Make mockery of knee-worship and fling down 
Altar and emblem. With one magnificent sweep 
We have dashed the lights o' the sky, extin- 
guished quite 
To be lit no more forever. Henceforth we keep 
No law not human, in resolute despite 
Of god or devil. Yea, tho' wide heaven frown 
And cast its thunders on our helpless heads, 
142 



Quest 

To this we stand against what gods may be: 
We will no longer serve; we will be free!" 

Wild vaunt of madness! Even unto the leas 
We have drained the poisonous philtre, the full 

cup 
Of mingled skepsis and dark blasphemies, 
Whose lethal taste we reck not. . . . 
Yet I, even I, (dim watcher in the ways 
Whereon unfolds the pageant of the days, 
Torched by the flaming ministry of the sun 
Unto Death's narrow house and close embrace), 
From out the darkness that no man may shun. 
From forth the patient silence of the grave, 
Here have I sealed and won 
Knowledge and peace to succor and to save: 
Man lives by affirmation; must cast out 
The withering spectre of cold-peering Doubt! 
Ay, 

143 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Must forever deny 
Denial, and with courageous breath 
GI' the lie to lying Death! 
For only so 

Is his frail being assured, and that one home 
Whereto 'mid welcoming smiles he at the last 
shall come! 



Mayhap I sought thee all the forespent years, 
Haply I wait thee in this nook of days ; 
How may I know within this mist of tears, 
Or pierce to sight beyond this mortal haze? 

No voice responds; the night hath fast de-* 

scended ; 
I scarce may see whereto my path is set. 
I walk alone; my Spring of Youth is ended. 
Whose passing is high sorrow and regret. 
144 



Quest 

And yet, and yet — 

What is this thing, to me that Rumor sayeth 
Of Song and her true-lover? What bright tale 
Entreats her casual utterance as she strayeth. 
And casts vague splendor on Time's muffling 
veil? 

Of thee, of thee she tells! but ah, what change 
Hath wrought this music in the floating air? 
It is a lustrous presence wondrous strange, 
It is a magic portent wondrous fair ! 

Of thee, of thee she tells ! Not as of old 
With chattering lips to cheat the general air, 
But moulding to truth her vehement speech and 

bold 
She comes in solemn loveliness austere, 
As when upon the hush and dark of night, 
What time the gracious heavens mantled be 
145 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

In cloudy pall of unpermitted light, 
With maiden grace amid her bright meine 
Steps forth the sudden moon in stainless 
majesty! 

Of thee, of thee she tells ! nor doubt I may 

The simple tidings of that voice serene, 

For ah, she hath foresworn her garrulous way 

And speaks to other purpose now, I ween. 

Stately she paces forth as any queen 

In that grave beauty she had not whilere; 

Surely she hath become what now she seems — 

A holy goddess innocently fair 

With round her brow the play of starry gleams 

And in her eyes the light of immemorial dreams ! 

She has past! she has gone! And now thro' the 

dusk I hear 
Faintly a far sound drifting silvery fine, 
146 



Quest 

Which tho' it distant be yet wavers near, 
Which tho' it mortal prove yet seems divine! 

With straining sense I listen, but in vain; 
With patient ear I hearken, but too late; 
That voice is silent, still that magic strain. 
But I vi^ho know^ the authentic prelude great 
Expectant stand and 'count my patient gain : 

Here v^^ith strange longing at the destined gate, 
Although I hear thee not, I wait, I wait. 



147 



II 

Haven 

Bursts thy full voice about me like the sea! 

Swells its wide music like the ocean strong, 

With might impetuous of imperial Song 

Crashing upon the rocks of destiny! 

But ah, not jocundly 

Under the spanning arch of shaded heaven 

Sweep those drawn tides of Song's resistless 

power, 
For lo, this is the hour 
Of Storm, and like a sea storm-driven. 
Smitten with tempest, lashed with the sounding 

gale, 
And all harmonious sea-winds turned to bitter 

wail, 

148 



Haven 

Song comes, with giant strides uneven 
Staggering beneath the weight of this world's 

woe, 
With shaggy front storm-furrowed, tempest- 
riven, 
Reeling in anguish and tremendous throe. 
And on the iron shores of mortal day 
Shatters its golden music in swift-showering 



spray 



The skies grow dark; the angry storm-clouds 

lower 
From verge to verge of the horizon's rim, 
And wrapped in mist's ethereal vesture dim 
Storm walks the waves in majesty and power: 
He holds in leash his strong-necked winds which 

slowly 
Advance before his shadowy form of wrath; 
They but await the sign when loosed wholly 
149 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

They shall rush howling down their foamy path, 
With vast unheaval of an ocean stirred, 
A spreading wake of throbbing anguish heard. 
Genius of Song, genius of Storm, — ah me. 
What fearful law do these moved waters keep? 
Whence is the measure, whose the stern decree, 
By which these tides of mighty passion sweep 
Onward to ruin and sore agony? 
No voice replies save voice of one doth weep; 
The heavens lower apace, and Night is on the 
deep. 

Night on the waters, Night o'er the ocean 

spread — 
Oh, that long Night of bitterness and woe! 
Of draining ebb, but ah, not vital flow. 
Night with his pompous step most slow, most 

slow, 
When cloaked in cloud the pallid stars adread 
150 



Haven 

Did veil their gloryhead, 

Leaving thee, their true-lover, sore to mourn, 

Alone, alone, and all uncomforted! 

Oh most forlorn, 

Whither for peace, to v\7hat true friend shalt 

turn? 
Alas, all hope is silenced now and dead, 
Nor lamp of solace in that gloom may burn. 
For still the beat of waters on the shore, 
And still the sombre plaint of vanquished day, 
And now resounds the din of greater fray 
Where Storm contends with Darkness ; his fierce 

roar 
Of gathering fury goeth him before, 
As forth he strides in warlike full array 
To see who him would bafHe of his chosen prey. 

Now well the stars with pall of clouds o'er- 
spread 

151 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

May veil their glorj^head, 
Leaving thee lone and all uncomforted, — 
Alone, alone save for those portents dire 
Which trail the skies with streaks of quivering 

fire. 
Yea, down the heavens with infuriate might 
Rattle the shafted lightnings crooked and bright. 
And the broad Storm with firmamental shock 
Doth make from shore to shore this sea to rock: 
Trampled under 

Beneath the flying hoofs of the hurrying thunder, 
Whirled to grey gulfs of pain and overcast 
By the harsh buffet of the pitiless blast, 
Until this shaken sea 
Lapse to the pulsing rhythm of mere agony. 

Oh, where is peace for this most tortured spirit? 
If need may of thee merit, 
Be gracious now, great mother! goddess! Earth! 
152 



Haven 

Awhile be tender; now, oh now reveal 
Thy heart maternal in this grievous dearth 
Of visible comfort: hasten thou and heal! 
Or ye, sublime and intellectual Powers 
Of man's wide-ranging spirit, make reply 
To Sorrow's question ere the breathing hours 
Flash on to darkness and ye droop and die: 
Yea, thou, rapt seer of abstrusest lore, 
Grave midnight porer on blind mystery, 
Accepted heir of old Philosophy, 
Sage Science, now I thee implore, 
Thee I invoke from forth thy secret cell 
With rite of Song and Beauty's wizard spell: 
Lay me this tempest by thy potent wand; 
Over its turbulent might assert command; 
Make it to bow its head of sovereign awe 
Beneath the yoke of thine assured law; 
Or if not so 

Thou may'st its passionate mastery bring low, 
153 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Then tell, oh tell, 

What inappeasable longings at its heart that 

dwell! 
Oh most forlorn, 
To what true friend, whither for peace shalt 

turn. 
Or slake thy thirst at what blithe prophecies? 
Not these, not these. 

That strict importunate craving Imay appease, 
Nor rightly say 
What more-than-mortal hunger gnaws this heart 

of clay. 
Ah, well thou knewest its worth 
Who did'st this braggart earth 
Spurn ; 

Yea, the tossed *scud of Song's fleet currents on, 
Like a bubble of foam, hither and yon, 
Hurled 
This hollow world! 

154 



Haven 

Oh most forlorn, 

Night on the waters, Night on the bleakening 
wave. 

Oh that long Night of bitterness and woe, 

Saddened with sighing of all winds that blow, 

Frighted with clamor of all winds that rave; 

And yet, oh brave. 

Heaving in anguish and tumultuous throe 

Thro' this so cheerless Night most slow, most 
slow, 

Yet, yet this laboring sea 

'Neath heaven's obscured arch surges uncon- 
querably! 

Ever Night fleeth with rent banners flying 
Before the onslaught of victorious Day; 
Ever Storm passes with harsh moan and sighing 
To some far cavern of his blustrous sway; 
Nor may they, each from other, aidance borrow; 
155 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Swift is the going of that dolorous twain — 
Night which is shadow of all death and sorrow, 
Storm which is breath of agony and pain: 
Thus runs the rumor of their overthrow, 
That grievous pair that caused such grievous 

woe, 
And lo, 

While yet with fitful stir the wavering sea 
Startles convulsively 

In dull remembrance of that conflict dire, 
What is this moving shape of starry gleam, 
What is this glowing phantom of desire. 
That thro' the gossamer curtain of the mist, 
Sun-kist, 

Shimmering with splendors of Auroral fire. 
Floats lightly onward like a thing of dream? 
None other doth it seem 
Than some far-wandering barque of Faeryland, 

I deem! 

156 . 



Haven 

Softly as light that doth the East awaken, 
Gently as swans that o'er still waters glide, 
Onward it comes with silken sails outshaken 
And fleecy foam along its charmed side ; 
And therewithal are sounds of gracious seeming, 
A delicate chime of musics softly blent, 
And one fair voice in thrall of lovely dreaming 
Weaving bright songs of Heavenly languish- 

ment. 
Then wide 

The swaying curtains of the mist divide; 
The azure waters sparkling in the sun 
Before that magic vessel flash and run 
As forth it swings upon the swelling tide. 
Ah, surely, surely, this none other is 
Than some stray barque of Faeryland, I wis; 
And yet from that high glory-smitten prow 
Gazes what spirit with so human brow, 
And by her side 

157 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Oh who those seeming children passing fair 
With aureole of sun-light round their flowing 
hair? 

A light there seemed to drape that gentle being 
In silvery fluence of obscuring haze, 
Mantling her grace to all but purest seeing, 
Masking her form to all but cleansed gaze ; 
And yet that light did not invest her wholly. 
Nor dim the prompting of some hid distress. 
Which to her glance that erst seemed spirit 

solely 
Now lent a glow of brooding tenderness. 
Turned then that maiden pair wide questioning 

eyes 
In childish vague surmise; 
But as o'er blurring sward 
Come twilight shadows and go, 
Even so, even so, 

158 



Haven 

Flitted the trouble of their frank regard. 
They looked, and saw not in their ignorant years, 
A little while, a little while yet barred 
From tryst of sorrow and the wooing of tears. 
A little while, a little while unbent 
'Neath mortal dreariment. 
How could they tell the quality of woe, 
Whose might they scantly guess, nor his stern 
uses know? 

There is a privacy of brick and stone, 
Silence substantial, massy solitude, 
Material immurement, where alone 
Impalpable thought its presence may intrude: 
This is the figure and dark prophecy 
Of what hath been and what shall be — 
Spiritual isolation, 
The soul's desolation, 

When man doth walk that waste, austerest region, 
159 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

(Most silent and strange, most strange and 

terrible), 
Of utter and heart-quelling loneliness, — 
Slow agony that feeds upon the bosom, 
A pained void, a numb and hollow ache, 
Freezing the genial pulses of the blood 
To sluggish act, than death less pitiful. 
Of all ordeals the bitterest and most dire. 
Ultimate touch-stone of th' aspiring spirit. 
The last and searchingest test, sharp proof of all. 
Which drenched with bloody sweat the body of 

Christ, 
Ay, even Him, prone in Gethsemane — 
Forsaken of God! 

M5'Sterious tract and bare, which still have trod 
The high saints duly, and from that fiery plight 
Been rapt to the dizziest pinnacle of delight! 
But ah, we know, we know. 
Shall little feet that awful path not go; 
1 60 



Haven 

And so 

'Gainst powers of 111 anoint and Heavenly 

harms 
By innocency's charms, 
They may not tell 
Thy grief unutterable. 
But she, 

Even in the crash and tumult of the sea 
Who heareth the breathing of one harmony, 
Ah, she doth know the rhythmic law expressed, 
Linking the gamut of all things that be. 
That bitter follows sweet, and peace unrest, 
And infant Joy doth nourish at grey Sorrow's 

breast. 

Oh, this she knoweth and she knoweth well 
Who in the white circle of this mystic spell 
Riding aloft the salt waves of the flood 
Now feels the stress of saddest solitude. 
i6i 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

Then drew she those two children gently to her, 
And tho' they closely view her, 
Ah me, she turned her wistful gaze aside 
Far, far away to where the mists divide. 
The simple waters flash again i' the sun, 
Before that magic vessel leap and run, 
As forth it swings upon the swelling tide. 
There was a sound of music very dim ; 
Softly it passed and dropped below the horizon's 
rim. 

Take up thy chaunt, O sea, 

For now again the trouble of storm's descended ; 

Thy little calm is ended, 

And fled away is that bright company. 

Yea, comes again the whirlwind and the stowre. 

Black Night and raging tides and whelming 

gloom, 
And bulking dark the grim inexorable Power 
162 



Haven 

Shaking his wrathful hand with threatening 

doom. 
Ah me, has struck the inevitable hour ! 
And yet I hear above the tempest's roar 
The sweeping surge of this sore-vexed sea 
Chaunting forevermore, 
Chaunting unconquerably, 
Victory! victory! 

No more! no more! The capable deed is past 
Here in the perfect seeing of God's eyes, 
The capable deed, the absolute, the last. 
The consummation and the sacrifice, 
The glory and the victory and the prize! 
Yea, 'tis at hand, the appointed moment sweet 
Of joy, of joy complete, 

When all the waters soothed with breath of balm 
Grow sudden calm 

For the smooth treading of Christ's passing feet ; 
163 



Shining Fields and Dark Towers 

When all the winds that own none other will 
Forego their purposed ill, 

For "Peace, be calm," He saith — and winds and 
waves are still. 



A silence spreads around me solemn and vast. 
The winds are mute, the streams, the sea, the 

sky, 
A brooding wonder o'er the earth is cast, 
And I am one with her tranquillity. 
Yea, all my being to great Nature thrills, 
I feel upon me her assuasive hand ; 
Incorporate with her rocks, her trees, her hills, 
With quiet blood in quietness I stand. 
With hushed breath, as still as any stone, 
Watching her purpose to fulfilment draw, 
Here as I stand in silence and alone. 
Here in the center of her peace and awe, 
164 



Haven 

Solemn and full and clear 

From out the deeps of mine own soul I hear, 

Yea, from the center of all peace and awe, ' 

The voice o' the Law: 

Through pain, defeat, and most outrageous 

wrong 
Alone is man made strong; 
And ever the way of Sorrow shall be the way 

of Song! 



165 






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